Wingless
by M.A. Ehrenreich
Summary: Time is a funny thing. It can run, but it can't walk.It passes by, but is never seen.It can stop, but it is always in motion.But for me, it is irrelevant. For me, the fourth dimension is useless, unless it can be reversed. Some things can't be undone.
1. Amber

Name: Amber  
Location:Portland  
Date: September 13th

One of my only memories is learning to ride a bike. I was following Ella, who was younger yet already accustomed with this strange vehicle. Then, out of the blue, I was suddenly tired of following. I had the strangely intense urge to speed up. The road just felt too narrow. Even today, I have no verified explanation for why it happened. My hypothesis is that my claustrophobia triggered my sudden desire to be free.  
Independence is precious, even in the most limited form. You may find it a bit frightening at first, but it quickly transforms into pure joy. I turned around toward the fields and gazed to the horizon, while pedaling as fast as I could. I was surprised that I had the capability to go so fast, as I was far from proficient in the use of this two-wheeled device. For one blissful minute, all I did was pedal and admire the blue skies. It was my ogling at the atmosphere that got me.  
It's a funny feeling, being suddenly airborne. Just as you realize it, it's over, and you're sinking. After the climax is over, it all goes downhill. I pedaled into a pothole and next thing I knew, I was laying on the ground, fighting for breath. No one knew where I was- Ella was probably still under the impression I was following her.  
Eventually, they came for me. The found me hurt and lost. By then, I was mad. To be granted with freedom only to be punished for it immediately was deeply tragic. Yet what three month of healing worth compared to my one truly peaceful minute? I know that I would relive that heavenly minute even if it meant those three month of healing all over again any day.  
I still have a scar from that day. It's this huge slit going down my back. Well, actually, I have two of those. One is from another accident, another story. This wasn't the first time I was hurt; it wasn't the last time either. But this was the only time that I enjoyed it.

* * *

I was dressed in a gloomy gray sweatshirt, with a 'New York' label across my chest. Hopefully, this will prove to the student body here that I don't belong and in fact, never will. On the contrary, my sister Ella was practically chirping show tunes in the back of my car. She wore a pretty pink shirt and a nice skirt as opposed to my eaten old converse and ripped jeans.  
"Be nice" my mom said. Even though she smiled as she said it, I knew she was deadly serious. As proud as I was of my reputation, my mom wasn't big on unladylike behavior. This was supposed to be our do-over, a chance to recreate ourselves, etc. I have gotten the speech- and the warnings- enough times this morning to recite them by heart.  
It was the first day of school in the city of Portland, OR. It was my first day of my 'New Life'. I was forbidden to attend, participate or even speculate from afar at a fight. I was supposed to keep up my usual 4.0, ignore the existence of boys, and chomp down my usual three cheeseburgers for lunch. I shall be a good girl, make some friends -preferably cheerleaders, and paint my toenails. Whoever thought this was ideal did not know me at all.  
I am Amber Martinez. I hate my name, for it's extremely girly. I am, clearly, not a role model for girlyness. For example, I have an odd tendency to beat up the people who annoy me. I also have a ridiculous case of claustrophobia. The only chance you will catch me wearing high heels is if I'm trying to find something pointy so I can kick someone with it. Yet my name somehow suits me- I've always felt frozen like the unmoving leaves captured in the minerals of the gem. I have only one friend- Natalie. I can't say she's any better than me in the ladylike department.  
As for hobbies, I don't do much sport. I'm athletic- completely and utterly superior to all the guys in our school who have the nerve to call themselves jocks- but I don't have a favorite sport or anything. I do love extreme sports, and am very outdoorsy, so I go on a backpacking trip once a year. I also like skiing a lot- I have a need for speed. Natalie says that when she found her passion, it gave her a whole new meaning of life or "enlightenment" as she refers to it. I think that's a whole lot of weight to put on soccer, but she won't have it. She dismisses the case by stating I don't understand, and if I attempt at objecting, she points out the fact that I, unlike herself, haven't been "enlightened".  
For all I know, I could have been enlightened and whatnot. I don't remember a day beyond my sixteenth birthday- a true disaster, I might add. I get occasional grainy flashbacks, but nothing major. But that one birthday- it's crystal clear.

* * *

I woke up to white scenery. Absolutely everything was white- the walls, the screens, the coats. I was plugged in to various machines, wired thoroughly. I heard a lot of beeping all around me and I saw doctors running around like crazy. Someone went outside and got my mom and Ella.  
I was in a complete blank. Nothing came to my mind. Why was I here? I tried to focus. Was I diabetic? Maybe I was in a long coma?  
My mind raced with possibilities. Meanwhile, my mom talked to the men in white.  
I caught glimpses of her conversation. "Is she alright?", "Will she have scars?", "what does she remember?", yes, but does she know…?"). Mostly, I just glanced around suspiciously. Up until this very day I haven't managed to figure out why I was so terrified of hospitals.  
Later, I found out the facts. I had an accident and fell on my head. I had amnesia, which is a doctor-word for me not remembering things I should in an unnatural way (as in, I'm not just getting extremely old). I was to see Dr. Jeb Batchelder twice a week to figure myself out. I told him absolutely everything because, well, I trusted him. I guess he was one of those people that look so incredibly familiar, you just go ahead and give them your autobiography. He had these big blue eyes and a coffee stained shirt, all which added up to look so… fatherly. Then again, what would I know about father figures? I don't even have one. I never got the full explanation, or maybe I did but I just never asked again after the accident, resulting in my lack of knowledge.  
Of course, all this happened in New York. The last time I saw Jeb, he was stressed beyond words. He looked around as if he was paranoid and then whispered a few words in my ear. I remember then clear as day, better than any of the grainy flashbacks I have.  
"Things are about to get difficult," he said in his raspy voice "but remember this: you define yourself. I have only told you the truth. If you come back I may not be hear" he paused and mumbled something that sounded like "they'll get me by then…" and then continued with his bizarre message "but if you need anything, jump off a cliff" he added with a weak smile and a wink. I knew that it was probably just a result of him staying up too late, but his low chatter scared me more than his creeper daughter, Ariel. I loved her and all, but it was so weird how she got that look as I was having a flashback- which, come to think of it, always occurred when she was around.  
Ariel was my main source of income. I was her babysitter when Jeb was in conventions and such (though she often came with him. They were out of town a lot). He always said he was going to help some endangered birds, and Ariel in response always giggled. I didn't really get the joke because that was his job. He saved wildlife and brought it to the lab, to be studied upon.  
But that was then and there's no point in reviewing the long list of lost things. I left my life in NYC. Now I had to rebuild it.

* * *

The first day of school is always the worst. First, everyone expects you to be in your best clothing for a 'good impression'. My opinion on that is mostly censored, for the public's virtue's safety. However, a briefing of it would basically say 'why make a good impression? Make a real one' followed by a few profanities. This is the reason I ask people not to get me started on posers (a true disaster of western civilization). Secondly, you must squeal and hug people that you haven't seen over the summer because you truly don't give a shit about them, but pretend to like them in light of their social status.  
I wasn't too thrilled when I drove into school grounds, to say the least. I was a new kid, an outsider. That's not something that should be happening when you're 17. By that age, you're supposed to simply enjoy yourself- even do your homework from time to time. In other words, 17 is the comfort-zone age. It is not the age where you should be attempting to fish out friends and blend in to the population.  
As I walked into the building, the first person I saw was one I knew I'd hate. He was tall, muscular yet somehow lean. He has ripped jeans on (the true worn out kind, not the fake one's some idiots get in Hollister). He wore a grey graphic shirt that said 'The Man' (with an arrow pointing to his face) and under that it said 'The Legend' (with an arrow pointing, well… down there). His black hair was clearly uncombed in a slightly messy disarray and his black eyes we're warm. He was smiling- his white teeth coming in complete contrast to his olive-toned skin.  
You must be wondering why I would hate such a good looking guy on the spot. Allow me to explain- I know his type. He's a heartbreaker, the kind I tend to fall for. Just seeing him I can already go by buckets of ice cream (the official break up food).  
Obviously, I wasn't too thrilled about the whole high school idea. The general concept is beyond my understanding. I mean, was it a torturing device in ancient Greece? Did some Confucius-like pupil say "hey, let's demand all teenagers of ages 14 through 18 to go to a depressing building and force them to memorize useless information as a condition for getting somewhere with their future carrier which has nothing to do whatsoever with these particular topics? Better yet, add some raging hormones, fashion divas and acne!"? The whole idea is just plain retarded.  
I walked by various get-togethers before I got to the secretary. She was tired and had an obvious coffee addiction (see the various empty cups of pure Starbucks caffeine on her desk). I got my schedule and walked away in an attempt to find my first class, English with Mr. Thornburg.  
As I sat in the only seat available in the florescent lighted classroom, I noticed two things. The first was that the heartbreaker guy from the hall was sitting next to me. The second was that there was some redheaded girl thrusting her cleavage in front of him. He seemed gleefully aware of this fact. She was, for lack of better words, a slut. The description of her clothe isn't needed, mainly because they we're barely visible. She was wearing too much eyeliner and bright red lipstick. Her heels were so high that her foot was almost vertical. She was truly a tramp.  
The guy kissed the redhead a long, passionate, completely inappropriate kiss. It made me want to loss the seven pancakes and two cups of coffee I had. Right as the redhead let out a overly sexual moan, Mr. Thornburg walked in. The magnets separated, and class begun.  
First, since I was new, he made me do a little introduction. All teachers like to torture the new kids a bit, but man was he good. He made me seem like such a fool.  
"State your name, prior location, and police record" he said in his serious vice. He had that perfect authority voice that you expect from a police man or something.  
I, thinking he was serious, stood up and replied "Amber Martinez, New York city, seven arrests". Apparently, the Portlanders found this funny, for they burst out in hysterical laughter.  
Mr. Thornburg coughed and said "Thank you for that… informative if overreaching information. You may now sit down" I could tell he was trying to hold back laughter but he didn't succeed, for a giggle escaped from him at the end.  
I guess I can see why they found this funny. They probably thought I made it up. I do look somewhat innocent- not muscular or tough. My wavy blond hair and tan skin give me the California girl kind of look, and the "innocent" hazel eyes don't really help. However, they don't know me at all- if they have a little sister watching Disney Channel, they should know that "everything is not as it seems".  
Everyone went around and said their names. The heartbreaker guy was Nick, and the slut was Bridget. She also had a clique- two girls named Miranda and Victoria. One was a blond and the other a brunette. Both, for some reason beyond my understanding, risked their last brain cells by using hair spray. Soon enough they won't have two neurons to rub against each other.  
Next was Physical Education. I know what you're thinking; Who takes P.E. when they're in high school. What can I say? I love a challenge. They gave us locker and the school uniform. It involved a bright red shirt and unflattering black shorts. We went into the gym and they told us to run to the song. The song was, ironically, Beat It by Michael Jackson. I lapped the girls over and over again, and by the end, I was still full of energy. However, the gym teacher, Mrs. George, stayed unimpressed. She then instructed us to play dogdeball, by which point I attempted not to burst into laughter. She did not know what she was getting herself into. Not to sound full of myself, but I have a decent arm. One trip to the nurse's office later, Mrs. George toke me out of the game to "Judge" with her. Judging with a teacher usually means having a nice conversation about a specific topic they wanted to inquire about.

"What sport do you play?" she asked, rather directly.

"Huh?" I asked intelligently.

"You're obviously athletic. Which sport do you play?" She asked in a serious tone.

"Nothing specific" I replied, confused.

"What team would you like to be on?" She asked.

"Huh?" I asked again.

"Nothing with brains, I hope. You lack intelligence in a sever manner. You, like each and every one of those other girls in here are attempting to impress me. I'll admit, you succeed. Not by impressing me, but by thoroughly surpassing those wieners. You have a talent, and I want to know what school team would you like to try out for?" She said, obviously annoyed.

Taken aback, I racked my brains for a sport that would include a shred of fun, as she continued examining the game.

"Do you have anything with skiing?" I asked.

"Skiing, huh? I'll see what I can do..." She replied.

We walked into the locker room to change. I put on my clothe in about half the time that it took the other girls and then I rushed into the cafeteria, for lunch.

I don't eat the same amount of food that normal people would eat. Try four times that amount. I guess I just have really high metabolism. For this reason I prefer not to buy my lunch, but to pack it at home. I know that it's not as sexy as waiting in line for a puny salad, but that's how I roll. So not leaving campus for lunch, I had to face the American challenge; I had to find a place to sit. The thing with high school is that you cannot just sit anywhere. Where you sit reflects who you are. You define yourself with your lunch table. So, in hopes of defining myself, I went to eat in my car, labeling myself as a loner. Unfortunately, right in front of my car were the two lovebirds, Nick and Bridget. I ate my extra large fries, trying to ignore the giggling and kissing that was going on on the school lawn.

Following lunch, I went to Calculus, then Biology. The day flowed by uneventful, as the stares tuned down a bit and the welcoming words stopped reaching my ears. I let out a sigh of relief as the day ended and I managed to sneak out of the horrible facility. Unfortunately, this came after I bumped into the annoyingly perfect Nick. It was odd, because for that one second we made eye contact, I could have sworn I saw him before. But that was probably just my amnesic brain playing tricks on me, I thought to myself as I preceded home.


	2. Nick

Name: Nick  
Date: September 14th  
Location: Portland, OR

My life has always been defined by others. I blended in perfectly- I was whoever others wanted me to be. My constant moving into new foster homes made it necessary, if not mandatory, to immediately correspond to my surroundings. However, this skill had a high price. I could never truly be myself, I was always acting. I switched my masks between school, home and work, but never once did I show my real face. Sometimes, I felt as if my world would crash down if I did- like the masks were holding my life together. But this obsession with always being who I needed to be had it's good qualities as well. I never needed to share my story, or relate with anyone, at least not on a deep level. I would always respond the way people wanted me to, and that was that.  
I always felt secure in my little game, up until that new girl, Amber, looked at me, it was like she could see through my act, and as if she knew me. Not on the basic "he-was-in-my-English-class" way, but as if she knew the real me. But I shrugged that though off as I went would I let a passerby make me squirm out of the foster home I've been in for a year? I was here ever since my accident. This is all I know- except for my flashbacks, which I can count on one hand.  
"Hey Bobo!" My little brother greeted me from the breakfast table as I approached. I grabbed a bowl, pour cereal and joined him. Since he was 2 he called me that, mainly because he couldn't pronounce "Bro", and was way too distracted to even attempt saying "Nick". I find it very, very sad that I had to learn it from him. These are the kind of precious memories I miss out on because of my condition.  
My brother is now 6, and still riding that high he's been on since yesterday because he went to school for the very first time. His transitions through the foster homes have been very smooth, but he likes it here the best. It takes no genus to figure that one out. When he was three and our Parents died in that car accident, we were separated and taken in to different families. We then moved from foster home to foster home, until we we're finally reunited here.  
"You ready for your second day?" I asked before attacking him with vicious tickles. Tyree was the only one who I was real with. He was the most precious little child in the northern hemisphere.  
"Sure...am!" He replied between giggles. "Could you drive me?" he asked with that pleading look. His blue eyes got huge and his lips were turned down the slightest bit. I'll be damned if I'll ever be able to say no to that puppy dog face.  
"OK, little one. wait in the car, I'll be down there in a minute". I told him as I ran upstairs to get my things.  
When i got downstairs and started the engine, I remembered something. "You do realize I'll be picking up Bridget, right?" I said.  
He let out his little six year old sigh. "Why?" He inquired in an annoyed tone.  
"She needs a ride." I stated simply, shrugging.  
"Promise me you won't start snogging!" He said. He was with a British family for a while and he picked up a few terms.  
"Pinky swear" I said, holding out my pinky. We shook pinkies and took off.  
I stopped by Bridget's house, and she got in the car, I took a moment to take in the sight. She was... hot, I guess is the correct term. Perhaps even sexy. But not beautiful in any way. Her red shirt was too low, showing off the maximum amount of cleavage she could reveal without being expelled. Her skirt was about ten centimeters long. Her high heels were bright red, matching her nail polish. Her facial features were good, but they were hidden under excessive amounts of makeup.  
"Hey there..." She said in a husky tone and caressed my face, right before crushing her lips to mine. Her tongue fought against my lips, and I granted it with entrance. Then Tyree coughed, and I pushed her away. "You promised!" He said accusingly, clearly upset. Before attempting to find a reasonable explain to him that when a girl with a C cup bra comes on to you, you don't say no, especially when you're a seventeen year old guy with raging hormones, Bridget told him to shut it. And a round of applause to the sexually frustrated, horny bimbo who takes it out on a six year old!  
"Bridget, don't talk to him like that..." I said as we continued to drive in utter silence.

"So, my parents are out of town this weekend, and I was thinking..." Bridget started as I rudely interrupted her.  
"I can't, I have the Skiing thing on Saturday and I'm taking Tyree to Church on Sunday" I dismissed the idea with a shrug.  
We walked to English together as she suddenly blurred out "You can't ignore me forever, Nick. I have needs." And tearfully walked to her seat. This was a mess I knew I'd have to clean up at lunch. Bridget and I have been fighting for a while, ever since I started getting my priorities straight. Tyree first, Bridget second, that's how it should be. I mean, sure, she's a lovely girl but... Tyree deserves a family. He deserves to finally be a kid after three years of shifting around. Ever since we reunited, he made me promise I'll be there for him, and I think that counts not just in the physical manner, but emotionally as well. I was honestly debating whether to just break up with her or not. But, I knew I could never do that. no matter how inconvenient it was for me, I knew I loved her, with all my heart. All that, combined with her tendency for drama, put me in a helpless situation.

"Bridget!" I yelled. I've been looking for her everywhere. I knew I'd have to apologize, but I didn't know it would be this hard. I've been roaming the school for far too long, and I was about to give up. Suddenly, I walked into something- or someone. I looked up to see mesmerizing hazel eyes staring right through me.  
"She's in there," said a lifeless voice coming out of the beautiful being. "You may want to hurry, she's balling her brains out." The voice commented.  
Just then I registered that the girl was referring to Bridget, and attempting to tell me she was in the girls restrooms. This wouldn't be so problematic, if I wasn't fully and unquestionably male. Ask any certified doctor. Hell, ask a dog.  
"Don't worry, I'll guard the door" said the dazzling girl. She could read the expressions running across my face so easily, as if she'd been doing so for years.  
Shaken I walked through the doors into the forbidden land. What I found... we'll, I can't describe it as the glorious, self centered girl I know. More like an insecure 5 year old with zero confidence and oozing sinuses. "Bee?" I asked soothingly "It's me." She was in the far corner, leaning against the stall door across the sinks.  
I received a sob in response. I took that as a signal for me to go on. "I'm sorry... Look, how about a compromise? We can go to that party you said Miranda was having Thursday!" I offered. I utterly hated that snob's parties but I knew Bridget lived for those.  
"I-it's just that you n-never have t-t-time for me!" Her voice broke towards the end and she restarted her sobbing cycle. I then walked up to her and held her in my arms, letting her cry onto my shoulder. "Shh..." I hushed her. "We can work it out. Now come on, let's go have lunch."  
"You head on out. I'll be there in a minute." She said, her voice steadying.  
I walked out, hoping to be able to thank my guardian angel, but no one was there. All I could remember were big, Hazel eyes that looked so familiar.

**A/N: Sorry for making it so short, but you wanted me to update soon. And I have good news: they added an all new, shiny, spectacular, tomato-pollishing, tectonic-plates-controling, godly review button! WHAT? You tell me it's been there **_**all along**_**? Then click it! CLICK IT I SAY!**


	3. James

Name: James  
Location: Colorado  
Date: September 15th

All I ever wanted to do was to simply _be._ I never had ambitions or goals, I just seemed to wander around aimlessly. Blindness was not just a physical condition, but a whole new way of existence. - even when it's over, you're still partially affected. While others saw a road ahead of them and tried to follow it to success, I just tackled the darkness and took a handful of whatever life offered. I was used to just take whatever life gave me, so it was no surprise that I wasn't thrilled about my scholarship to that fancy boarding school. And with my being relatively emotionless, it seemed natural that my parents would be more excited than I was. But it was day three, and I wanted out. I even made a neat list of the three top reasons why i should go back to my public school.

1. My partial blindness provoked unwanted attention. Everyone thought I received the scholarship because I got the judge's sympathy vote, and isn't exactly what you want people to be thinking about when you're trying to make new friends.

2. My service dog, Max was completely lost, as was I. I didn't know the area, and Max was too excited about new scents she picked up to be any actual help. The building had far too many stairs for me to be able to be remotely comfortable and the echoes through the halls were maddening.

3. I had no way of attempting to seeing Katrina, my ex-girlfriend that vanished from the face of the earth leaving no trace.

Of course, my parents wouldn't be able to understand any of these three reasons to their full extent and would probably just end up telling me what a great student I am, and how I make them proud and then tell me the story of how I was kidnapped as a kid and they did everything in their power to find me, and how after they did, they tried to fix my eyes but ended up giving me an overdose of general amnesia and then they'll tearfully tell me for the umpteenth time "...and that's how you got your amnesia". Then, as I'd cheerfully add the fact that nine month ago they had been able to improve my vision, and from now on it'll only improve, they'd grimly point out how it'll take another year until I have normal vision, and for now I will have to stay with the occasional glimpses of the world.  
Sometimes, I feel as if Max is my only real family. I must be crazy to refer to my service dog that way, but it's true. It's not that my parents aren't loving and caring, it's just that she really gets me I got her when she was already trained and named Maximum. When most people hear the name Max, they think of Maxine. But Maximum is the only compatible name for my dear Max. Even the old owners - a Single father named Jeb and his sweet little daughter Ariel- said that as I got her for my sixteenth birthday. When I asked them why, they just granted me a mysterious "You'll see", and I sure did. She was a rather intense dog, as she was very feisty at times. Yet she could also be warm and caring. She could calculate situations in such humane ways- she would cuddle by me if I was listening to audiobooks, or jump on my bed the split second the alarm clock goes on and start licking me. She would never be too obnoxious or hyper, and would always have my back. She was a leader, a follower, a listener, a guide, a shoulder to cry on and a plain old friend all at the same time.  
And if Max was like my sister, Katrina would have to be my soul mate. I know I'm a bit young to bound myself to her at seventeen, and it's a bit ridiculous to believe in soul mates, but you have to feel it to believe it. She's every man's dream, and for some reason beyond my understanding, she's also granted me with the gift of being my reality, even if for a short period of time. The story of how we meet- well, it's cheesy, but also glorious.  
I was walking down the hall in the Hawthorn Academy of Arts and Science, looking for an auditorium in which I was supposed to give a lecture about the Theory of Relativity to a class of 11 year olds. AI had a spur-of-the-moment vision enhancement, so I passed by each door, I snuck a peak as to what was happening inside. It was very interesting to see the different classes, as each of them had something unique going on inside. When I passed by the chemistry lab, I saw a miniature explosion preformed by an 8 year old and a lot of clapping from his class mates. When I walked by the art room, I saw a beautiful landscape painting in the making. But when I walked by the main stage, I was taken aback.  
A girl was fluttering across the stage. There was neither music nor lights, nothing but _her. _I was hypnotized by the elegance and grace that radiated off her skin. Her long legs were stretched out in an impossible manner, her hands gently yet swiftly gliding along the air. She had radiant green eyes, that much I could make out in the dark. She continued her dance, not noticing as I absorbed her bewitching act. I stood there, for who knows how long, before the dancer stepped into the light. I saw her long black hair carelessly tossed over her shoulder. I saw her offending black leotard, worn on her divine body. I saw her pale skin glowing with an aura of joy. I saw her secretive smile as she walked out the backdoor of the stage. The only problem was that she did not see me.

I searched for her everywhere, and after finding out she didn't even go to the Academy, I managed to track her down in Yapma Valley. Since I lived in Denver, It would have been difficult to just come over and knock on her door. I settled for sending her an Email, by which point I realized I have no idea what to say to her. Eventually, I settled for the truth. I explained in a long Email how her dance touched me, and how she thought me to see. Apparently, mentioning sight in my Email was a huge success, as she was deaf and relied on it for everything. We then because pen pals, sharing the daily struggles of living with merely four senses. Of course, I was getting mine back while her situation was hopeless, but we could still emphasize. She told me what it was like feeling the vibrations of the music and responding with movements, and I told her what it was like to listen to the echoes bouncing off walls to comprehend your environment. It was, however, a short lived friendship, because soon love replaced our emotions.

We meet once a month, usually after her dance class. I'd drive up to her and we'd go out for ice cream or something of that sort. We'd never run out of things to say. The time I shared with her was the best time of my life.

However, this golden era did not last, and a new, dark one replaced it. It was August 8th- I'd never forget that date- and Katrina called at 1:00 AM, panic thick in her voice.

"_James?" she asked frantically_

"_Yes" I replied, still groggy from my sudden awakening._

"_I want you to do exactly as I say. You mustn't forget these instructions." She warned. "Do you trust me?" she asked._

"_Of course!" I cried. "With my life" I added.]_

"_I need you to stop contacting me. Don't ever speak of me again to anyone. If you get information concerning me, ignore it. Eventually, a girl will find you. I want you to do whatever she tells you to. If she tells you to jump off a cliff- do it. This is your only chance of survival. Any questions?"_

"_H...how will I know she's the girl?" I asked, confused._

"_She will have extreme charisma, an arrogant attitude towards anyone but you and her few close friends, and she'll have remarkable hazel eyes" Katrina replied. "Now, after I hang up, you will never hear from me again. Just so we're clear- you __must__ not try and find me. Goodbye, James." She said, heartlessly._

"_I love you!" I added desperately, only to be cut off by a long beep sound, subtly hinting that Katrina had already hung up._

About a month after that call- a week ago- I got a call from her local hospital, stating she has been hospitalized with anorexia. I was tempted to go there and visit her, but I stopped myself. Even heartbroken as I was, I was still bound to follow her instructions. She told me to ignore any information regarding her, and so I did.

I told myself over and over that I'll be able to get over her. I almost convinced myself I'd find someone else. But as I weep into Max's fur at night, I know that I'll never be able to forget that girl who taught me to truly see after swimming in the dull, lonely darkness of my life. And as I continue to fight back my tears, I tell myself that as long as the girl Katrina referred me to lives, I can survive any obstacle my life throws across my path.

* * *

**A/N: I know most of you wanted to see what will happen with Amber, Nick and that whole situation, but take into consideration that Ig... I mean James is important too. In fact, the whole flock is. So I must warn you: I will be telling you about each and every member of the flock. For those of you who have no patience for mystery and want to ignore the heavy clues which will be found in the rest of the flock's POVs, you can wait until I post chapter 6 which will basically explain what the heck is happening here. For those of you who like the current plot, I'd suggest you simply keep ready. For those of you who are human, I'd recommend reviewing in the immediate future or else... let's just say someone will pay you a visit :P For the non-humans out there, I will take you to you're leader ASAP, right after I finish this random/pointless AN. In summary: You can either go on and go through the pain of listing to me talk about the youngsters life (that's a joke. I'm really enjoying writing their chapters. I actually think it's great. But some people read fics for faxness) OR wait until I post chapter 6 (which, mind you, may take a while seeing as I have a life). Either way, you must review. NOW. -XOXO, Mia**


	4. Monique

Name: Monique

Location: Arizona

Date: September 16th

Before I start, I must inform you I'm a cheerleader. In fact, I'm head cheerleader. Does that make me blond, dumb and pretty? No. I'm not your average freshman cheerleader. See, I happen to be African-American. I also happen to be a straight A student. And before you ask- I'm no party animal. I'm also Jewish, so that's a "no way" to the good-catholic-cheerleader theory. Why do I tell you this? I find that most people presume all freshman to be the same; preppy, twilight-loving, weight watching little girls who squirm at every little thing.

I do not meet any of those requirements. I'd rather eat my two double cheeseburgers quietly than torture myself with a piece of cardboard commonly referred to as lettuce. I never squirm, but may occasionally squeak in a nonchalant manner. I hate twilight. And, one last thing; I don't travel in herds.

See, most cheerleaders are _always_ by each other's side. The team practically never splits. However, I find their shallow conversations rather boring, and prefer to hang out with my best friend, Rachael. She's the muscular daughter of a mechanic, and she helps him at the garage all the time. I happen to have a passion for cars, so we obviously spend practically every afternoon there. And while I see her as an awesome person, other people neglect to see her true beauty and just call her a tomboy, leading to her rather unpopular status in school. I wouldn't really care, if it wasn't for the fact that since I'm her best friend, everyone wants me off the squad. Unfortunately for them, I am the best cheerleader they have and even lack of popularity can't pull me off my current position.

My competition is Lauren. She's, for lack of adjectives, perfect. She has blond hair and blue eyes, the largest boobs I've laid eyes on and an obvious obsession with boys. Her current boyfriend is the wide-receiver from the football team, but I heard she's headed for the quarterback. She wants to replace me so badly, it makes me sick. She's got the hold squad wrapped around her perfectly polished fingernail, and she insults my every turn. Not to say she's evil or anything, but she may just be the devils incarnation.

So as I was sitting down next to Rachael at lunch today, Lauren made a nasty comment about my hair and walked way to the squads table in her 4 inch tall high heels. Rachael then proceeded to ask me for the umpteenth time why I was a cheerleader.

"It makes my mom happy and it's kindda fun" I replied with a shrug.

"Right, but you have so much _skill_. Think what you could do in an actual sport, like basketball. It's all the fun, minus the catfights and the snobby girls in pink" she pointed a finger to the "popular table", in which the squad was shamelessly pressing their cleavage together in front of the football players, not even attempting to cover it up in their slutty pink outfits.

"True, but potential doesn't cover it. I'd need to have my parents support the sport, which they don't. In fact, they're still not sure if my helping out in a garage is 'appropriate for a young lady' " I mimicked my mother's high voice.

"Yet they do think it's appropriate for you to reveal your chest while starving yourself to get the perfectly flat stomach? Or get so drunk that half the time you go to school hung over?" She proceeded to inquire skeptically.

"Well, yes. See, they want me to be this perfect, all-American girl. They already failed in the looks" I said, referring to my dark skin and tall, gawky body build "so they want to me to at least act like the perfect daughter". Rachael looked at me, still puzzled.

"So you're basically sacrificing your freshman year to your parents?" She asked.

"Well, yeah. I guess." I said, taking a bite out of my apple.

After a long pause in which we both ate our sufficient lunches, I noticed Rachael was practically hyperventilating over her food. I shoot her a questioning look, to which she quickly replied.

"Ok, don't freak out, but Dylan Rioz is walking over here" Rachael whispered, excitement coloring her voice.

Dylan was the star quarterback, as well as the hottest senior in school. He had a reputation for being a heartbreaker and/or a player, so obviously Rachael would be crushing on him. But most importantly, he's the only known guy to resist Lauren's charm. Absolutely everyone knew she was after him, but he was oblivious to her and her Victoria's Secret bras.

As he reached our table, he stopped. I dully noted Rachael was about to faint. Her normally tan face paled, and I could hear her heartbeat all the way across the table. I realized that she probably never stood do close to him.

"Hey" He said in a deep, husky voice. Since I saw Rachael wouldn't be recovering soon, I answered for her with a Hey.

"So, Monique…" he said, his fingers nervously tapping on the table. I could hear Rachael's heart tear apart.

"Yes?" I asked, befuddled.

"I was wondering… I mean hoping… I mean…" He said. Even while he was completely screwing up, he acted so cool, that it was impossible to ignore his calm aura.

"Damn it, would you just go out with me?" He asked. Taken aback, I thought it through. If I say no, Lauren would be his rebound, making her even more popular and me way less. If I say yes, Rachael would hate me but I could stay on the squad…

"I'm sorry, I really like you, but I just couldn't do that. However, I happen to know there's another great girl that likes you, so if you can direct your attention to girls who aren't doing back flips in miniskirts, I'm sure you'll find yourself much happier. Anyways, if you don't mind I have to…" I said as I say his eyes. They we're an bottomless ocean of blue, so deep and intense. I was lost in them for about five seconds before I resurfaced.

"Are you sure?" He asked with this smug grin across his face. He was so persuasive, I just hummed in response. Then, as if I was under a spell, I said I'd go out with him.

"Great!" he said. "I'll call you later". He walked away, and I turned to meet Rachael's heartbroken face.

"Why?" she asked. "I didn't mean to…" I tried to explain, looking down at my shoes as I did. "It's just… his eyes are like magnets, you know? And I tried to tell him no, but then this weird thing clicked and I…" I looked up to see her mumbling a "whatever" into my general direction and walking away.

At practice, Lauren was just plain crude. She "forgot" to catch me after throwing me up into the air in the second routine, she laughed about my nonexistent social life and she commented on my appetite. When I tried to remind myself how I weigh less than her, so I simply have a higher metabolism, she said how it wasn't for my creativity in the routines, I would be out of the squad so fast I wouldn't be able to say "Go Tigers". It was like watching a mean girls movie come to life. In the locker room, a rather normal cheerleader named DJ tried to tell me Lauren was just jealous, she got bitch-slapped by her former friend, Amanda. I was so shocked of this behavior, I bolted out of the campus and ran all the way home. And to make it worst, Rachael didn't answer any of my desperate calls. All because of some stupid mistake with a stupid guy, who happens to be really attractive and had these familiar blue eyes…

**A/N: as you can see, I am officially obsessed with eyes. No, not really. There's a reason I keep talking about everyone's goddamned eyes. Again, it will be revealed in chapter six. These are all things you should be noticing. Review please!**


	5. Zephyr

**A/N: I had a bit of writers bloke earlier. I hope you understand. However, I'm up and running again. One more chapter until all (not quiet... don't get the wrong idea) is revealed!**

**

* * *

**

**Name: Zephyr**

**Location: Florida**

**Date: September 19****th**

I was the boy who ran with scissors. I never quiet fell in line. I always doubted authority, and undermined it whenever possible. It was inevitable that I would get myself into trouble, no matter where or when I was, for that matter.

Another uncanny skill of mine is detecting fishy-ness. I can see when my "mother" try's to cover up my history, I notice when that strange girl from down the street giggles conspicuously next to her father. I can tell that the teachers are overly sympathetic when I'm around, and I can tell you it isn't just maternal hormones kicking in. I know things- a useful gift for a rebel, I might add.

Today, I decided, would be the day I confronted Anne. I'm done with the lies and the false smiles. I'm old enough to know the truth.

"Mom, can we talk?" I asked in an innocent 10-year-old voice which I saved for emergencies. I could tell Anne detected the tone because her face twitched a bit as she was racing through the possibilities of punishments in her mind.

Honestly, I can see why she'd be worried. The school year had started and there wasn't any report of a massive mushroom cloud or stinky explosives yet. I tried to lay low so I can get this confrontation thing just right.

"Sure, honey" Mom replied in a restrained voice.

I lead her toward the living room, which is actually only there for the show. We never use the living room for anything besides our grand parties. I knew that if I escort her to this inhabitable chamber, she'd understand I mean business.

I watched Anne entered the showy, overly-elegant room and sat down while trying not to move any of the carefully placed, perfectly styled pillows. I hated how ornamented this chamber was. It made it so uncomfortable, extremely uncozy. I wish we had a simple house, one that would be a bit more casual and a little more familiar. As you may realize, rich isn't my favorite style.

"Was-sup?" Anne said in a false attempt to be 'hip'.

"I know" I said. Anne paused, waiting for me to continue. But it was my intention to stop there.

"Know what, Sweetie?" Anne said, through a fake, cold smile that was pasted across her face. I had been trained to see through her fake expressions, so I could tell how nervous she was.

"I know you're not my mother." I replied simply. It was turning out harder than I thought to say that sentence with her sitting right there. Even though I practiced this over and over, the mirror was nowhere near as challenging as Anne's wide-eyed face.

"That's..." She started in a low voice, giving me a bit of hope then abruptly demolishing it "Ridiculous!" she stated. "Have you been reading mysteries again?" She asked in a snotty, I'm-an-adult-hence-I-know-it-all voice.

"How can you possibly believe that's true?" She said and let out three fake tears. I hate it when she tries to be overly dramatic. Can't she just be sincere, can't she stop the secrets?

"Look, I know it's accurate. Do you even own my authentic birth certificate?" I accused. "I'm not leaving this room until you give me honest, infallible truth." I threatened.

My mom looked completely overwhelmed, her face projecting pure shock. I guess I came out a bit harsher than I intended, but she defiantly deserved it. I mean, what kind of person takes advantage of their child's amnesia to hide their original heredity?

"This is unacceptable! Where did you learn such horrid manners?" Anne said in his fearsome low voice.

"Tell me the truth or I blow this house up!" I threatened. By then, I was shaking with anger. I always get a bit out of control and unperceptive when it comes to bossy adults. That, added to my increasing desire to know the truth, lead me to my horribly cliché threats.

Anne looked baffled and thoroughly perplexed under her fake clam expression, which was probably a result of her seven layers of pure make up and some Botox she injected to her face. However, she still refused to respect my wish.

"What do you know?" She asked in a low whisper, as if she was afraid anyone in the big, empty house would hear her.

"I know I'm related to that Angel girl from down the street, meaning that Jeb must be my dad..." I said, trailing off, mentally willing her to fill in the blanks.

"Prove it!" she snarled at me, finally unleashing her inner monster.

"I have the DNA test right here." I said calmly. Her eyes rolled, but I could sense she was panicking. For a second I though she was going to be honest. However, she immediately wore her superior mask and sighed.

"Jeb was the sperm donator. You were artificially conceived. He asked to see you every once in a while so he moved nearby. Angel is your half-sister, seeing as her poor mother died of cancer in an early age. We didn't tell you because we didn't want to hurt you. Please accept my apology for not being straight with you. However, I cannot believe you would take such drastic measures! I'm going to have to ground you for a week." She finished off, smugly.

I stomped off to my room, upset with her wall of lies. I was a comedian- always doing impressions, farting and pulling pranks- but I was serious when it came to such matters. It saddens me that she can't be as loving towards me as I am towards her.

I pulled a notebook from under my mattress, grabbed a pencil, and started sketching. It was at times like this when I got inspiration. My comics were my little secret- it was very similar to a diary. Only when I was in it, I could fly- along with five other kids. I know they're real- Angel is one of them. She has scars on her back, too.

* * *

**You didn't review the last two chapters. You should be ashamed. If you reviewed once, it doesn't mean you get to stop. It's now or never!**

**(You can even PM me with requests or tips. I'm desprate here. feedback, please?)**

**-Mia**


	6. Ariel

**A/N: I had the most fun writing this chapter. I'd like to thank Kat, for being the epic person she is, and Lea, for being the grammer freak she is (but a loveable one, nonetheless.**

**Please tell me your thoughts. If you ask, I can alter the story just for you :D (not really, but I'll do mybest. I mean, if you tell me to put in spongob at the yule ball, I doubt I'd do it. Intresting storyline though... be expecting a crossover soon. JK. Anyways...)**

**Without further ado, I present the almighty chapter six!**

* * *

**Name: Ariel**

**Location: Alaska**

**Date: September 21st**

It's strange, being the puppet master. One wrong move and the puppets could rip. I get tired of my role sometimes, watching as who used to be the flock members lead a normal life- but then I remind myself their banal life is possible because of me. I alone gave them this average perspective of the world. But it did come with some consequences, which I have a constant reminder of- the two slits across my back, witnesses to the life I used to have, scars to a battle I never won.

But even now, with their human DNA and common memories the flock is far from ordinary. They are each unique, human in the scientific aspect, but mentally still avians. They may have been physically changed, but their mind stays the same, even after having their memories wiped clean.

Max was a curious case, as she never lost her physical capability. Even as Jeb assured me that her muscles were replaced with weaker, human muscles, I remained unconvinced. She had abnormal reflexes, which helped her in her childish fights. Since she grew up in an environment of endless violence, she felt very comforted by the same old routines. She made enemies and then literally ripped them apart. Planting so-called memories with her head was easy, because all I had to do was give her the sense that she had always sought for adrenaline and never quite fit in with other girls. Her spies, however, had to be modified. Natalie, or model 1288X7 as I call her, had to had the same reflexes as Max build into her, so Max could feel a bit of compassion toward her and let her through the thick walls she build around herself. Or course, Jeb insisted to keep in check with Max. He because her doctor and she was very open to him, as sensed familiarity in his eyes. In fact, Jeb has a theory that one can change his whole face and people will still recognize their eyes. Jeb says that it just has less to do with science and more to do with the soul's window.

Even though he tried to deny it, I could sense Jeb felt sorry for Max. He often had thought about how unfair this was, but I wasn't affected by it. He was biased, anyway. It just upset me to see that while he was compassionate to that powerless, human girl, he still never viewed _me_ as a daughter.

Fang wasn't any better than Max. If he didn't talk much before, now he was completely silent. He never showed any emotion, so we had to plant a little boy to make him be open to one person in his life. Tyree grew to love Fang, and almost refuse to continue doing the job. However, we planted Bridget there to set him straight. Every time Tyree wouldn't file a report, Bridget had to tase him- a harmless tase, but it was still excruciating. He learned to do his job, and Bridget made sure that Fang did have _some_ emotion. We injected him with hormones, so he fell hopelessly in love with her. She was perfect in the role of the slutty-melodramatic teenager and Fang ate it all up.

I felt bad for Iggy, being human and blind. Jeb and I pulled some strings- and planted some thoughts- so he could get his sight back. The problem with the surgery was that it took it a while to completely take over, so he had random sight periods that were very short. His spy was, ironically, deaf. She was a Russian creation, so she had some glitches. Also, her name was Katrina, which wasn't the usual spy name- it stood out too much. But nevertheless, Iggy fell in love with her, and eventually, she fell in love with him as well. She called him at night, giving him minimal instructions, and by doing so sacrificing herself to save him. We caught her and starved her, trying to fake anorexia so he would come and see her. Unfortunately, his trust overpowered the temptation and he ignored the call. She was relieved, and before passing out she uttered that Max would find him. We are still debating whether to put her down or not. For now, we have transferred him to a boarding school filled with spies and we still have the camera on the collar of his service dog. We ironically named the bitch Max.

Nudge surprised me the most. You'd expect that her love of fashion and music combined with her constant chatter would make her the most popular girl in school. However, her love for all things mechanical overpowered that of preppiness and so she became the most extraordinary outlier; she was a cheerleader on one hand, and unpopular on the other. it's not that she didn't have the potential, but she preferred quality over quantity, and so she choose one good friend that was better that twenty. Of course, this girl also happened to be 4Z993E, otherwise known as Rachael. She was made in Mexico, and related to Nudge on a very deep level. I must confess, I was impressed by their factories. But Rachael wasn't enough, so we had to send in Dylan to capture Nudge's heart. He was modified a bit, as Nudge's looked for different things in a guy than Max, and he stole her heart just like that. We have recently notified Rachael to trust him, and she and Nudge should be making up any time now.

We had a problem with Gazzy. I demanded to see him, because he was, after all, my brother. I planted happy memories in his head, willing him to have a good life and forget all about his previous one. Unfortunately, he still remembered too much. He had a comic book full of battle scenes- the flock beating Erasers, flyboys, M-geeks and whatnot. It pained me, but we had to make up a cover story for him as well- I was his half sister and he was artificially conceived.

And that was it- the infamous flock reduced to nothing but weak, spineless humans. They knew nothing of each other's existence. Of course, I- as always- was the outlier in this case. I turned them in, and I kept my powers.

See, after Fang left, Max was crushed and wasn't physically capable of saving the world. I happened to have knowledge of the end of the world, coming from my voice. It said that we (the mutants) cause, as well as stop, the end of the world. So the answer was simple- no flock, no Apocalypse. Max was too blind by her foolish misery, so I had to pull a little trick. I kidnapped Fang and brought him to doctor Gunther-Hagen again. I called Max and told her he was captured. She hurried there, along with the rest of the flock, and soon enough, they were all back in dog crate. I had them chained and put down, to return to a human form. It went by rather peacefully as Jeb and I did the arrangements, tearless. We returned them to whatever original parents they had- or to some other guardian- and let the doctors do the trick. However, right before Max was knocked out, as I whispered goodbye in her ears, she tore my wings off in one last moment of awareness, mumbling that I don't deserve them.

They offered me new wings, but I declined, feeling content with my other powers- ones that no one knew about. And why was I so special? My voice answered that, too. At the time of my birth, the school was also working on creating mythical creatures. While other mutants had the combinations of animals and humans, I was two percent Thunderbird. The Thunderbird is a Native American mythical creature that can attract clouds with the flap of its wings, as well as other qualities. I can manipulate water and light, causing huge storms and explosions. I can do things Max never dreamt about- and all in the flick of a finger. But for now, I watched. And as I watched, I learned.

* * *

When Jeb entered the house, he was blocking me. He was reciting poetry in his head, but I could get little tings of panic and anger in there. He came with the flock reports in his hand, and sighed.

"I have some bad news..." he said.

"What?" I asked calmly, attempting to be polite. He never appreciated me, even as I was much more trusting than Max.

"I'm just going to say this... Max moved to Fang's area." He said, fear easily detectable in his voice.

I took a deep breath to compose myself. "Define area..." I whispered, thinking they might be in the same cost, or even state.

"Um... They may or may not be in the same neighborhood. But they do have the same English class..." He trailed off, as I gasped horrified.

I couldn't contain my anger, and my animal reflexes took over. I grabbed him by the shirt and dragged him to the wall. I then proceeded to wrap my hands around his neck and pinned him to the nearest wall with my inhuman strength.

"How... could... you... let... this... happen?" I hissed at him, baring my teeth.

"Angel... Honey, please..." He spoke as I cut off his breathing. Reason finally crossed my brain and I let go, allowing oxygen to flow into his lungs once again.

"Tell me _everything_ you know!" I demanded viciously.

"According to our sources, subject 1 has made eye contact with subject 2 yet is avoiding him at all costs. No memories have resurfaced. They are perfectly fine and I can personally assure you we will sustain a great distance between them. Even though..." he trailed off.

"What?" I said, snarling.

"They are, naturally, both athletic and speedy. They both chose rather extreme sports to rid of their adrenaline. And, living in the northern hemisphere, they chose skiing as their priority sport. Now that they're in the same town.. I think they might be put on the same team or something. But don't worry, there are hundreds of others there- the chance's that they'll actually meet and..."

He was cut off by my wave of rage which attracted some clouds into the house. "The chances," I hissed "are always stalked against us. By simply keeping them alive we made a huge mistake, wasting all those funds... Why can't we just terminate them as originally planned?"

Jeb shifted his weight uneasily. "Angel... Max is like your mother..." He explained, as if I didn't regret that myself. Why does he find her so likable?

"She's no use to me now. You can destroy her." I said, waving my hand dismissingly.

"She may not be useful _now_, but we might need her around later" he said, trying to hide emotion from his voice.

"Fine. What about Fang?" I asked, hopeful.

"I doubt we have the authority to do that..." He said uncomfortable.

"Sure we do. I can simply instruct him to drop dead, no assassin needed!" I said cheerfully.

Jeb frowned, his wrinkles deepening. He had a concealed thought about my loyalty, but I couldn't quiet catch it.

"You really want to kill a member of your own flock?" He asked, amusement apparent in his voice.

"The flock," I said, anger boiling down my throat once again "was dismissed a while back. I would merely be killing Amber and Nick, simple, useless humans". I said.

"I still can't believe you'd be willing to do it. Your own family?" He asked, attempting to face the problem at hand with humor rather than expressing the other emotions that danced across his face, barely detectable.

"Why should they live?" I asked simply.

"Because," he said, after a thoughtful pause "they don't deserve to die."

* * *

**A/N: melodramatic is my middle name. Please review! i know this chapter kind of sums up the last five, and up to now it was background. Let the real plot begin! :)**

**-Mia, who is sitting in front of the computer, waiting for a review. And one that's not from Kat (ahm, Kat?)**


	7. Intro to Alaska

**This chapter was so disturbing to the public that Lea, once again, has proven her generosity by editing this horrid chapter and allowing the public to, once again, open thier eyes without fearing of misspelled words and grammatical errors. This run on is for you, Lea. **

**Disclaimer: Appearently, you all have been under the great impresion that I own Maximum Ride. I do not. I know, It's a shocker.**

**Claimer: I own this. And socks. And my cool converse. DO NOT COPY THEM!**

**Disclaimer 2: Actually, I just on the shoes, converse, not the company. **

**Claimer 2: If you copy this inner monolog, I will kill you in you sleep with a Cryola Marker**

**Disclaimer 3: That Crayola Marker joke belonged to Brooke ******* (censored last name).**

**Claimer 3: I was, however, the one who figured out 5 ways to kill someone with the Cryola**

**Conclusion: I will shut the hell up now.**

**I must admit it: I have writers block. My writing is becoming much more fast moving rather than it's previous myserious (I hope...) theme. This is temporary! Merely a lapse in my normally very descriptive nature! Meanwhile, I hope you read this. And If it's good, tell your friends. I'm aware school started (no derr) but please, keep the reviews going.**

**Here goes...**

**

* * *

**

**Name: Amber**  
**Date: September 22nd**  
**Location: Portland**

Time is a funny thing. It can run, but it can't walk. It passes by, but is never seen. It can stop, but it is always in motion. But for me, it is irrelevant. For me, the fourth dimension is useless, unless it can be reversed.  
I miss New York. Every day here is a futile attempt to blend in. High school is torture; after school is a pain. I have no friends, no life, and no reason to keep going. I was surviving on what should be illegal doses of caffeine. It was a Monday, the worst of all days. I rinsed my face, but on some skinny cargo pants (Ella: "They're like, so in right now!" Me: *makes unrecognizable noise resembling a snort* "Ella, shut up. It's a Monday."), a blue tank top (Ella: "You still own that? It's like, so last year!" Me: "Ella, plain tank tops were invented in the 50's. I'm positive I can still wear them."), and my signature beaten converse (Ella: "I think they're a dying rat in disguise…" Me: "You're a dying rat. Now shut up or you're walking to school!").  
As I crawled into the car, I plugged in my iPod and put up some upbeat music. However, even the cheerful music didn't cheer me up (Ella: What the heck are these songs?" Me: "Some people actually listen to real quality music, not Justin Bieber." Ella: "You did not just insult Justin!" Me: "You did not just pretend you're on a first name basis with a 16 year old guy who has a soprano voice!"). I dropped off Ella and headed to my school. Realizing that I'm late, I started running toward my Literature class. Unfortunately, Mrs. George was waiting outside the classroom.  
"Mrs. George, I…" I tried to find an excuse, looking around for Mr. Thornburg to get on with giving me detention and whatnot.  
"Got, you're here. I excused you for your first period for today, if that's alright. Now if you'd follow me…" She said, gesturing to her office across the hall, where Nick, my classmate, was sitting patiently. As I entered and took a seat, I attempted to understand what I have in common with the douche.  
"So," Mrs. George said, gesturing to my sleepy face, "we're here to discuss your athletic career."  
"Ok…?" I said, vaguely wondering what Nick had to do with any of this.  
Reading my mind, Mrs. George continued to explain, "Nick, I understand that you have been recommended into the Snow Patrol program this winter break?"He nodded, confused.  
"Amber, have you ever been on a ski team?" she asked in her worn out voice.  
"Yes. Second place in state," I said, somewhat proud but still puzzled.  
"Amber, if you can give me your report from your former coach, then I'm sure I can contact the Meadow's authorities and give you a spot on this year's training camp," she said, shuffling papers.  
Nick looked dumbfounded, yet I was still clueless. "And what exactly is this trip?" I asked.  
She starred at me for a moment, let out a little sigh, and started explaining, "You're in your senior year, so even if you join the schools team this year, we- the school- won't get much out of it. However, this trip teachers you how to train others. The school has been having budget issues, so we can't hire a true professional. We will pay for the trip and all other expenses if in the remainder of the year you will coach and train our female freshmans. We offered the same deal to Nick here." Pride was thick in her voice at the mention of muscular Nick.  
I weighed the options. Pros: Skiing! Coaching! Fun-for-all, yet affordable! Gives me a life! Cons: Nick. Nick. Nick. Did I mention Nick?  
I promised myself I would stay away from him and his slutty girlfriend (because let's face it, the last thing that I need now is to beat her up). However, does that come at all expenses? I mean, this is a once in a lifetime opportunity.  
Persuaded by the general thought of, "Snow! Snow! Snow!" I decided to agree to the plan. We were dismissed, and I headed back into Literature, Nick walking silently by my side.

* * *

**Name: Nick**  
**Date: September 22nd**  
**Location: Portland**

As we were walking out of the office, I couldn't help but let my train of thought revolve around the general area of WTF. Is this a bloody prank? Two weeks in Alaska with her? If Bridget finds out, she will kill me. She's jealous of random girls I bump into- so obviously, going on a two week camp with a girl is not acceptable. True, there'd be other people. And we'd cover every square inch of our bodies in attempt not to freeze, so it's not like spring break in Mexico or anything. And I doubt they'd even give us the same cabin. There had to be at least 17 other people there, not including the instructors.  
But even as I tried to find an excuse, I knew I wouldn't be able to help myself. She has that aura glowing from her skin and that gleam in her eye that leaves you breathless. I am naturally attracted to her- but not just in the physical aspect. She's somewhat mysterious and intriguing. I have the uncanny urge to find out everything about her. I'd like to know about her dreams, her past, her present, her future, and every insignificant detail I can.

* * *

**Name: Ariel**  
**Date: September 22nd**  
**Location: Alaska**

"Jeb?" I asked as I crawled out of bed on a lazy Monday morning. "What are we going to do about Max and Fang?" I asked sweetly.  
"Remember when I told you they might be on the same sports team?"He said, a mischievous grin crossing his face.  
I nodded weakly, rubbing my eyes.  
"Well, I had it all arranged. They're going on a trip- a trip here." He emphasized. I squealed with pure joy, finally fully awake and ready to pay attention, attracting light which burned off the usual foggy Alaskan weather. He nodded, but then proceeded to the inevitable warning, "We must be careful, though. We don't want to attract any attention. We need to plan . . . "he said, grabbing a pencil out of a random drawer and started sketching. Smiling, he looked up.  
"One more thing," he said his smirk widening. "We have a new spy."

* * *

**Good? Bad? Bloody hell it should be a federaul voilation to post this (heehee... bloody is a fun word)? I don't know. Tell me. Review.**

**If the above mini-rant wasn't convincing enough, I must plea: I have a bet. I must get five reviews before my next update. I must update in a week. You know what that means, don't you? Say it with me: REVIEW! Please? pretty please with a rob pattison on top?**

**-Mia**


	8. falling from grace

**A/N: I'm going back to randomness. Please, pay attention to the timeline, because I'm going to start jumping back and forth. Last chapter we were in September 21st, now it's November. You will soon hear about october. Meanwhile, enjoy!**

**PS: I am getting over my writers bloke. I will survive :)**

* * *

**Name: Nudge**

**Date: November 5th**

**Location: Arizona**

I have managed to pinpoint all the problems of the world into one word: mornings. See, no matter how gruesome and horrifying the previous day was- the morning would always be worst. It's inevitable, merely a demonstration of nature's rules. Sadly, Dylan doesn't qualify under the category of 'Nature'. He's more like a fallen angel.

I'm not crazy, I swear. I just _know_ he's not human. How could he be? He acts so strangely, and he has these… abilities. I can describe it. It's not just because he's so persuasive or anything, it's also his ability to predict such small things. It's almost unnoticeable, but still significant. And I know something else; he doesn't love me. Don't take this the wrong way- I'm sure he holds some sentiments to me or else he wouldn't have gone through with this. It's just that his eyes- those perfect ones, that make me salivate rapidly- hold a mixture sorrow and grief. But they also hold a strong desire for vengeance, which I can sense every time we touch. It's everywhere- his rebellious smile, his habit of flaring his nostrils at the mention of such ordinary matters, his raw and rough kisses, and his astonishment from those three simple words…

I mean, he could have at least lied. He could have said it back. Anything would have been better than his confused stare. And then he just walked away…

But it's alright, I guess. Now that I think about it, I never really loved him. Not true love, anyway. My time with him felt like an illusion, as if he wasn't really there at all. And in some manner, he _wasn't_ there. His perfect head was floating around in his own little world, not paying the slightest bit of attention to me. He's truly the perfect guy- but not _my_ perfect guy.

And I intended to break up with him last night. I really did! But he had different intentions. Namely, a heavy make out session. And those… er, _circumstances_, lead me to flutter up to cloud ten, in which my head was firmly planted. So obviously, I wasn't in my right mind. Which still doesn't really provide a valid excuse to my horrid behavior, but it's as accurate as I can get. It's impossible to describe that feeling- it's like my head is spinning, my limbs are uncontrollable (otherwise known as Jelly Mode), my stomach is flipping inside out and I'm having a severe asthma attack- in a good sense. I was so overwhelmed with that new feeling that I let three repulsive words slip out my mouth. And if you aren't as thick as I am, you'd realized that I confessed my love to the guy I intended to break up with. Furthermore, he stared at me expressionless, and then left me. And now, instead of focusing on my geometry homework, all I can see is his blank glare.

But this wouldn't be so bad if today wasn't _The Morning After._ Everyone has one, so don't pretend you don't know what it is. It's the day when all you want to do is stay in bed and attempt to drown yourself in your own bitterness and self pity. It's the first time you start to honestly consider suicide methods. It's when you dread hearing the gossip, knowing that it will revolve around you. It's the morning you hide in the bathroom to avoid a certain someone. It's the morning when _everything_ goes wrong. Cue: Dylan.

It started with me going to the nurse. She told me I wasn't sick. HA! Me? I'm the sickest person out there! But, apparently, not by her standards. So I was forced to go to my first class. This class being geometry. Geometry being a synonym to "death by numbers". Because who would I find by my desk if not the bastard who started my nervous breakdown? Right. Internally, I was freaking out and cursing his name. But externally, I managed to fake composure. Unfortunately, this lasted for about a 3.6 seconds. Then my filter retired and my thought were free to navigate their way out of my mouth.

"What are you doing here?" I asked in a cruel, cold voice. As far as surprise filter failure goes, this one didn't start out so bad. I didn't say it too emotionally, just straight to the point.

"Um…" he said, his eyes jumping around the classroom. He knew I knew. That he wasn't all that human, that is. Wow, it's like I'm a living Bella. Only Bella gets two mythical creatures that love her so much that they beat the everlasting shit out of each other and I get one guy that doesn't even love me. Not to mention how vampires/werewolves are way cooler than whatever Dylan is. "Here," He said offhandedly as he shoved a piece of paper into my hand. I watched, confused, as he rushed out of class.

So what was I to do? Open it like a normal girl? No, I'm far too slow for that. I just shoved it into my backpack. AND NOW I CAN'T FIND IT.

It could have been IMPORTANT! What if it was, like, the written out answer to the square root of pie? I may have just deprived all mathematicians of a valuable gift because of some stupid adolescent fight. So I owe it to mankind and science and all that to talk to the bloke, right? I mean, I have to suffer a bit for the well being of future generations!

Oh, who am I kidding? This is rubbish. I don't owe mankind anything. I owe it to him. After two months of a dreamy utopia, he deserves the truth. The question is, can I really deliver it? Will I let it go? Silly me. I shouldn't ask questions I'm not ready to hear the answers to.

Sometimes it's not only bad memories that make you sad, but also the best ones which you know will not happen for second time. Sometimes, it's better to be clueless about what's happening around you, rather than knowing information that would slowly kill you inside. Sometimes, boys make you believe they love you even if they don't. Sometimes, the only one who can make you smile is the one who made you cry.

So he loves someone else. I can live with that. We could stay friends. And maybe I could just _hint_ about the fact that I know he's not entirely human. And that he's basically on the rebound, trying to get back at some other girl by using me. It's alright. Who knows? Maybe he'll grow to love me.

Wow. I'm pathetic. I cannot believe I wrote that. I basically said that I can live with the fact that my boyfriend loves another girl, is using me, and ISN'T HUMAN. Umm… no. No, I can't handle that. Just because I adore the crap out of him doesn't mean that makes any of those OK. Because guess what? I have higher standards. My boyfriend has to be human, as well as actually like me. I'm not desperate enough to let go of those criterions.

I'll talk to him. I mean, I have to. It's rude to just ignore him.

* * *

**Name: James**

**Date: November 5th**

**Location: Colorado**

Katrina was here. Here being my dorm in the boarding school. There are so many confusing variables here. I mean, as a student, I have to wonder how she got past security. But knowing Katrina, she would have thought of the most ridiculously accessible thing that everyone assumed no one would do considering how obvious it is. Then I'd have to question her motivation- why did she bother? She told me to forget about her- did she really think _this_ would help?

In a spontaneous moment of sight, I look at her message. I would recognize her handwriting anywhere- so perfectly legible, just the right size, every curve proportionate, and every line straight. I run my hands over the word. It was written with such tension that the paper almost ripped under the pressure of the pen. I wondered what caused this. I feel every letter, pondering. I can still smell her scent on the paper.

R, U, N; Simple letters with a complicated meaning. Run where? Why?

"_I need you to stop contacting me. Don't ever speak of me again to anyone. If you get information concerning me, ignore it." _That's what she told me last time I talked to her. How do I know this isn't a trap? Why should I trust her?

But any attempt to convince myself otherwise is futile. I have a gut feeling- one that I can't help but listen to. Katrina knows I'm in danger. She knew about it even before. I don't know why or how, but it is what it is.

If you follow instructions once, you make it a uniform. I trust her and I refuse to disobey her. However, the problem stands. Where do I go?

I opened my closet, wanting to pack while I still have my sight. What I saw next was the most gruesome image one could ever view.

She was sitting there, curled up in a ball, bleeding. Her skin was a pattern of purple bruises and open wounds. She was too thin- her skin (or what was left of it) was wrapped around her bones so tightly I could see their outline. Her hair was burned, left in the irregular pattern of fire. You'd think that someone would bother to cut the remainders off, letting it grow back, but they left it there on the verge of death. Her eyes were closed, but her expression was surprisingly peaceful. That is, until the light woke her up. She held her hands to her face in a protective manner. Just the sight of her hands made me want to vomit, seeing as they were cut and oozing blood.

"James?" she asked quietly, her swollen eyes widening. I wondered if I should call the police. I finished my internal debate by asking myself if they would help.

"Yes?" I said hesitantly. Her eyes squinted as she read my lips.

"RUN!" She yelled her voice breaking midway.

"Where?" I asked, trying to stay calm and rational. I then repeated the question in sign language for good measure.

"Anywhere… I was wrong, it wasn't enough… I'm not sure if she _can_ remember. They're after you now… I have to keep them back… GO!" She finished her quiet rant but barking in my general direction.

"Katrina, I need you to focus. Where do I go? Who am I running from?" I asked, panic now recognizable in my voice- not that she could hear it. It took her a while to comprehend, but after about four seconds she responded.

"No one… Everyone…" she whispered. "Do you remember the call? Back in August?" She urged. I nodded in response.

"The girl…It might take her longer to find you. But you need to go away for now. Try to avoid anyone who isn't her. Just pick a general direction and go, using whatever means of transportation you can." She said.

"Will you come with me?" I asked. She paused before she laughed a dead, hollow laugh. It reminded me of a ghost.

"No, I won't come. But you don't need me. Just promise me that you'll be as far away from here tomorrow!" She begged, her voice getting higher.

"Will you be safe?" I asked, demanding to know the plan. She sighed, but it turned into a sob.

"Yes. I'll be fine. Don't worry about me- you'll see me again. Try not to, though. I…" she said, pausing.

"I won't be the same after tomorrow. But you have to find that girl. So go on- pack up!" she said, trying to rush me.

I then did he most impulsive thing possible. Instead of getting the hell out of there like a normal person- or, rather, get her to an asylum, I leaned down and kissed her.

It was a short kiss. Passionate yet very reserved. I could take her blood and feel her swollen lips. The contact scared her at first, but then she relaxed. She paused a moment before breaking away.

"Go. Now" She whispered, looking at the ground.

"Thank you…" I said. She didn't respond.

And those were my last words to Katrina Petrov, the beautiful girl who broke my heart but saved my life.

* * *

**More unedited crap (sorry Lea!):**

**If you review,**

**I will love you.**

**A review is like sunshine,**

**In a world full of gray.**

**I gaze at it awe,**

**hoping the feeling will stay.**

**

* * *

**

**You know what to do!**

**The above is coming from a girl who lives in Portland, Oregon.**


	9. Fearful

**A/N: **

**Hi! I have an important note to everyone out there- the timeline has changes. We started with SEPTEMBER. Then, the last chapter was NOVEMBER. Now, we're discovering what happened in OCTOBER.**

**Another note- Katrina is DEAF but that doesn't mean she can't read lips. a lot of people function propertly without having to sign.**

**Last note- Iggy is only SEMI blind. I meantioned this in chapter 4 and 6. And in chapter 7 I wrote "In a spontaneous moment of sight, I look at her message...". Angel convinced a few people to give him surgery which could fix him, but his eyesight will not be reliable for a year. He gets temporary spurs of vision because the nerves are still repairing.**

**Enjoy!**

**

* * *

****Name: Amber**

**Location: Portland, OR**

**Date: October 8****th**

4 AM is an hour that should not exist. It should be illegal. Yet, for some reason far beyond my understanding, this is the hour in which I am required to wake up. Then, I need to get in Nick's car, endure an inevitable awkward silence for two hours, arrive at Mt. Hood and resort to freezing my ass off until 7pm. Bake in 350 degrees and you have a grumpy, cranky, homicidal Amber. Nick is in for a nice treat.

At 3:50 AM, my alarm goes off. At 4:00 AM, my other alarm goes off. At 4:10 my third alarm goes off, forcing me to wake up to the chaos of three alarm clocks and panic (the "OMG I'm going to miss my freaking ride!" kind of panic. Only_ I_ don't say OMG. Ever). I brush and braid my impossible hair (of course two pieces of what used to be my bangs stick out at the front, right where I split my hair. They have this annoying check bone length which I can only pray will grow out eventually) and brush my teeth. I wear a white thermal shirt and black water resistant pants (over two layers of warm, fuzzy PJ bottoms). I grab my jacket and head outside to find a very annoyed Nick waiting in a very nice convertible.

Little did Nick know he was about to find a rather murderous Amber. Nick here is under the impression that I am a normal girl waking up. He has no idea that unless I'm under attack or the world is shaking under my feet, I sleep. My mom says that I must be making up for 15 years in which I constantly stayed up.

"Hey" I said, trying to be friendly. I shut the door behind me, and buckled up. I was surprised with a rather hyper "hello!" from a child sitting in the back seat.

"And who are you?" I ask, attempting to be friendly. Internally, I was yelling "DIE DIE DIE!". No one should be so perky in these hours.

"That's Tyree. He's my younger brother." I hear Nick say, not removing his eyes from the road.

"Ok, Tyree. So you're going to ski today?" I say, turning toward the child.

He looks much like his brother. He has the same olive skin and black hair. However, he doesn't have the same... warmth, I guess, in his eyes. He had the same general build of a swimmer. He wasn't nearly as tall as I estimate Nick was at his age.

"Yep! Nick taught me how to ski last year. He's good at everything!" He said with the true pride of a first grader.

"Really?" I asked, giggling. "What is nick good at?" I asked.

"Outdoor stuff. And sports. And school. Everything!" He said, getting excited. I bet this was his favorite conversation topic. He probably showed Nick off to his whole class, presenting him as a superhero.

"So what _isn't_ Nick good at?" I asked. I could see Nick rolling his eyes. Does this couldn't as teasing him? I shouldn't be. We're not supposed to be friends. Right.

"Umm…Picking his _girlfriend_" Tyree said critically, using his eyes to burn holes through Nick's head rest.

"We talked about this…" Nick mumbled, right as I said "I think Bridget is very sweet".

So what if I think the girl is really a tramp? Sue me. But if I can fix this munchkin's opinion on her, then I'm sure both Nick and Tyree would be better off. The least I could do is help them.

"What?" they asked simultaneously, flabbergasted. Nick even tore his eyes off the road, if merely for a second.

"She's, you know. Pretty." I said. Great, now they think I'm a lesbian. "And intelligent. I can see why you'd date her." I told Nick as sincerely as possible (which wasn't that easy considering I just called Bridget smart). Tyree laughed silently. Nick just opened and closed his mouth, as if he was trying to hold back something.

After two minutes of silence I toke out my iPod. When Nick asked what band I was listening to, I replied "Nirvana" . He tore his gaze from the road and starred at me in awe. "Unplugged, 1993?" He asked in a dramatic whisper. I nodded, shocked. It was rare to find a good Nirvana fan- most were just wannabe's or over-does. He seemed just right. He toke out a little cable, connected it to the sound system on one side and asked me to plug in my iPod to the other. We spent the rest of the ride singing along to 'The Man Who Stole the World' and 'In Bloom'.

"I never thought I'd live to see the day when Nick found someone who shares his bizarre taste in music!" Tyree commented. Strange- we actually did have something in common.

When we finally reached the parking lot, Tyree cleared his throat and said "low and behold, the Mount Hood Meadows!" he said, and then shrieked with laughter. "Nick told me to do that…" He explained. Nick nervously glanced at me and gave me an awkward smile.

"So, we have to meet with the rest of the group in 10 minutes. Better get our gear." He said. It was the most I've heard him talk since I fell asleep during 'Heat-Shaped Box' in the car, in which he sang every word.

"Sure, sure…" I said. I put on my brown, green and white plaid jacket and took out my skis. They were race skis, the kind with neon colors and brand names all over.

"So you were a racer?" Nick asked, smirking. For some reason beyond my understanding he found that amusing.

"You weren't?" I asked, sarcasm dripping from my voice.

"It's just that you don't seem like the kind of girl…" He quickly explained, and then shut his mouth. Wow, he was clueless.

"So, where is this meeting thing anyways?" I asked. He led me through the average building until we reached a conference room.

There were about five other people in the conference room. First, was a perky blond. She had her hair in two braids and had one of those Eskimo hats on (you know the kind. They cover your head and ears and have weird things dangling from the sides. If you don't recognize this description then it's time to revisit civilization) and a cute little sweater. She was wearing orange snowboarding pants and had a bit of mascara surrounding her deep blue eyes. She had a few freckles sprinkled across her face, clustering around the general area of her nose.

Next to the blond sat a boy who resembled a grown up Justin Bieber. He had the same light brown hair in a perfect surfer haircut and had puppy brown eyes. He wore a black long sleeved v-neck (which, not to be stereotypical, made me think he might be homosexual) and neon-blue water proof pants. He was tall- I could tell that much even though he was sitting down. He was also very muscular- he kind of looked like an ideal quarter back.

There was a girl with lilac eyes and violet hair. I'm not sure how she got the eyes, but the hair was definitely artificial. Altogether, her look was somewhat bizarre. She had one of those funky asymmetrical haircuts and a hint of eyeliner. She wore dark clothe (including a black, fashionable beanie) which came in utter contrast to her skin. She would normally be described as emo but something about her sheepish smile and her laughing eyes made you think otherwise.

Another girl was what I would describe as the total opposite of the purple-haired girl. She had long, red hair and brown eyes. It didn't have anything to do with her appearance, but something about her screamed bloodthirsty. Between her twisted smile and her angered posture she seemed lethal.

Last, there was a guy dressed in conventional guy clothes (AKA one icky green jacket and average skiing pants). He had dirty blond hair and gray eyes- the kind that make most girls melt. He was average- no as extreme as any of the other people in the room. But when I looked at him, the most astonishing thing happened- he smiled.

Nick sat down and I sat down between me and the blond girl. We were each on comfortable chairs, starring at random places. Meanwhile, Tyree was standing up running in circles. Finally, the blond couldn't take it anymore.

"So," she said. Her voice was high and cheerful "what's your name?" . The question was directed to Nick, but he nodded toward me making me answer it.

"I'm Amber. He's Nick. He doesn't talk much…" I said, trying to justify his complete disinterest.

"I'm Kara! And this is Lysander, though everyone calls him Ly. We've been on the same snowboarding team since we were five. We always came in the same place in championships- if I was fifth in the women's category- he was fifth in the male category. It was inevitable that we'd bond, you know? So now we're dating..." She said, and I repressed my urge to rip her head off. Meanwhile, Ly (otherwise known as the Justin Bieber look alike) nodded and gazed at her as if she held the meaning of life. She talked _a lot, _but I kind of liked her.

"I'm Rena," said the purple haired girl. "I'm not really one for racing. I do recreational, though- with both snowboards and skis. I mainly focus on flips. I won the half pipe freestyle championship last year." She added, grinning. "And you can probably tell what my favorite color is…" she said, playing with her shoulder-length hair and giggling.

Rena proceeded to elbow the aggravated red headed girl next to her. The girl sighed and introduced herself. "I'm Rena's older sister. My name is Anastasia, though people call me Anna. I do ski racing and would rather be in my bed right now than with all of you." She said pointedly, glaring at Rena. I would have never in a million years guessed they were sisters.

"Anna isn't so… content with being here. Our mom made her do this instead of moving out to Seattle and work at a coffee house. She just wants her to get a good job" Rena hurried to explain her sister's hospitality.

"What about you?" I said, facing the dirty-blond male. He smirked. "I am Iason, a skier. I did a bit of racing but focused more on recreational. I also have a few other hobbies, and if you'll be stupid enough to ask about them I will not stop talking…". I liked this guy. Perfectly sarcastic- the kind of person I hang out with.

"Can I get a five word explanation as to what these hobbies might be? Rena asked flirtatiously.

"I am in a band" he said, counting his words. Impressive, he knew how to reach five- an intellectual male indeed.

We continued to inquire about Iason and his band (to his obvious joy), until someone entered the room. He was a dark, tall male. He wore quality skiing clothe and held a stack of papers. His eyes were silver and kind. He smiled towards us. "Hi, I'm…"

He was cut off by a girl rushing into the room. Straight black hair, piercing green eyes- those were the features I computed first. She was pale and tall, her walk graceful. She seemed so lightweight- as if she was merely a feather floating around. She looked towards our direction and mumbled "sorry I'm late. My name is Katrina".

* * *

**Name: Katrina**

**Location: Mt. Hood Meadows**

**Date: October 8****th**

And there she was. The girl I have been learning about my entire life. I have analyzed each of her battles, memorizing her reflexes, her weaknesses. But this was not the girl I expected- it was as if the life had been sucked out of her. I suppose, on some level, it was. Still, I expected more spike, or the legendary fire flaming through her eyes.

She was pretty, I suppose. The team did a good job of making her seem average. She had wavy, sun streaked blond hair that would fall over her shoulder. She wore a plaid jacket made up of green, brown and white colors as well as a knitted scarf. Her posture was bad- she slouched over, ashamed of herself. Her Hazel eyes- the ones that were supposed to be the most inspiring of all her features were empty.

Where was the famous Max attitude? The untouchable aura that surrounded her? Where was the passion, the anger, the meaning of her life? I guess those were stripped away too, along with the rest of her existence. I heard they designed an extra special procedure for her, as she was, after all, Maximum.

Next to her was her former lover. He was dark, tall and handsome. He was muscular, but not as much as he should have been. His hair fell over his eyes, leaving him mysterious- but not as mysterious as he was rumored to be. He wore gray clothe, contradicting the formal belief that black was his uniform. It was said that you could literally see his chemistry with Max, but all I saw between them was general awkwardness. They truly didn't seem to remember a thing.

I was here to make sure their memories would resurface. Fortunately, I was surrounded by members of the resistance- all those people who believe Max should resurface. We want her to fight Itex yet again and get her wings back. Not just for our personal good, but because we believe that after all these years of torture, they deserved it... Especiallly Iggy.

But how could I make these miserable beings go back to what the magnificent ones they were before? Could they ever fully recover?

* * *

**PM me your thoughts. I love reviews and weekends. And Iggy. Please review- it makes my day :)**


	10. Dream

**A/N: this is a short one. Just an FYI. And if you're reading this, guess what? LET ME KNOW!**

**NOTE: The deaf are also able to talk on the phone. There's special phones out there that translate words into text. Katrina is highly capable and doesn't sit around and mop all day so STOP BUGGING ME! Lol, I'm just kidding. Feel free to point these things out in a review or a PM.**

**So, here goes...**

* * *

Name: Zeyphr

**Location: Florida**

**Date: October 8th**

The first thing I noticed was that everything felt right. Somewhere in the pit of my stomach, I felt prosperity. I proceeded to open my eyes, to discover bewitching blue skies. Fabulous, peaceful blue skies stroked with single feathery clouds. I was surrounded by the serene image of the alluring atmosphere. Looking down, I duly noted that I was levitating- but for some reason, it felt entirely natural. Looking ahead, I saw people I immediately recognized as my family. Just like my comics, they all had wings.

We were in a formation- but two were missing, and one didn't belong. The perfectly tan male was looking around fearfully, as if he was expecting something to explode in his face. The hazel eyed blonde was faking composure, even though it was pointless- anyone could see she was in ruins. I don't know how, but I knew it had to do with the missing two. I looked at the attractive yet pale strawberry blond male and the tall, African American girl and I knew who was missing- it was the dark, mysterious male and the girl who resembled Ariel.

Everyone was indulged in some sort of conversation, but I couldn't make out the dialogue. I wasn't really paying attention until we started our decent. We were headed toward a gray building, smack in the middle of Death Valley. As I laid my eyes upon the structure, shivers traveled down my spine. The girl, who was evidently the leader, didn't look scared at all. In fact, she looked rather ferocious. She seemed determined to destroy the place.

Our landing was surprisingly smooth, and we stood in a very cliché crime-fighting position. The girl didn't hesitate and proceeded to march forward, her curling into fists. She stopped abruptly, her lips curving into an 'o'.

She gasped and then looked at her feet, refusing to project the obvious shame and defeat. Surprised, I looked around. What could possibly scare her? She was infallible, indestructible. And yet she stood there on the verge of tears.

Then, I saw it. It was a silhouette holding a gun, its shadow stretched along the sand. The sun blinds me, preventing me from seeing its face.' Why would she be afraid?' I ask myself. Somehow, I know she's been through much worst. And then the silhouette shifts positions, allowing me to see its face.

Between 8 feet of pure white wings stood a small girl. Her head surrounded by a halo of bouncing blonde curls, her face decorated with a pair of glaring blue eyes, her lips pursed into a small tense smile, her skin radiating- causing her to look even less human. Her small finger wrapped tightly around the trigger, eagerly waiting for the perfect opportunity. Ariel.

"Angel." The hazel-eyed girl said. It wasn't a question, nor a statement or recognition. Everyone paused, waiting for a snarky comment or a little sarcastic rant- but none followed. Finally, I understood the strange tone intertwined with her voice; it was defeat. Was she really giving up? Was she truly hurt beyond repair?

Looking at her face, I could see she won't fight. Maybe she ran out of things worth fighting for.

Angel, or Ariel, pulled the trigger. Then, the leader gasps. A final scream of pure agony pierces through the warm air of Death Valley. Angel missed. I can feel a single warm tear sliding down my check.

At this point I wake up. Was everything a dream?

"No" I decide, looking in the mirror. My tears were real. So was my sweat.

I look down at my chest, where I find a familiar patch of scar tissue arranged in a perfect round formation, adjacent to the bullet. "And apparently" I think to myself "so was my blood".

* * *

Analyzing the dream is difficult. I can feel it's real, so it must have happened in the past- before my amnesia. Who is Ariel? Is the really this Angel person? Why did she want to shot the leader? Had she actually shot me?

Then, I realize the important missing puzzle piece. There was another person missing from this group; one that must have been replaced by the tan boy. Maybe he was the motive? Was Ariel trying to avenge him?

No, I have it all wrong. The girl's devotion to the cause. The boy's cowardness. It must have something to do with that.

Was I in any danger right now? No. If Ariel-or Angel- went through all this trouble to make me forget, why would they kill me? But the girl. She could very well be dead right now.

I don't know why this though affects me so much, but it does. I guess I loved her before all this. I can't help but wonder- is she safe?

* * *

**Awww.. sweet Gasman. Don't you know she died a year ago?**

**I'm just messing with you guys. SO, this is the part where I beg for reviews *coughs twice to clear throat in a very official politician fashion*:**

**Hello. I am Mia, a candidate for your reviews*. While other fanficton authors tax you and make you wait for long periods of time before the next chapter, I, Mia, help the needy and feed the poor. Look at this nice picture of me with an elderly lady! Other authors spend their money on personal items but I'm so rich I don't need anything! Vote for me because I'm right for you. *Thumbs up***

**Do I get a yes on Measure 66*? **

***for the Non-Oregonians out there, these are commercials that play in the local channels all the time. Not that there ARE any Non-Oregonians reading this. Though if there are- prove it! Show yourself! REVIEW! Mwhahaha (evil laugh dedicated to Flying In Love)!**


	11. Storm

**A/N: WRITE MORE is not an acceptable review. And I'm obsessing over Harry Potter this week, hence my dorky insperation.**

**

* * *

**

**Name: Ariel**

**Location: Alaska**

**Date: October 8th**

"The Order of the Phoenix? You must be kidding me!" I yelled at Jeb. He had somehow managed to infuriate me yet again.

"So they formed a resistance group that is supposed to help Max remember her past. And Katrina recently joined…" I mumbled, pacing around. I came to a halt in front of Jeb.

"See? This is what happens when you give filthy mutants second chances. Chaos! Absolute anarchy! We should have starved her." I said, huffing.

"Angel," He said, shaking me. "Starving people isn't right. Physical punishment isn't the answer. Not to mention the modifications- even if she wants too, she can't be friendly to the subjects. We are perfectly safe." He said in a soothing tone.

'Can _anyone_ kill Max?' I mused to myself. I decided that Katrina is more than capable. So what if she wants to save the lives of those pathetic creatures? She is programmed to sense their weaknesses, predict their actions, and strike when the circumstances are perfect. Not to mention how now that we gave her back her hearing, all her senses are working beautifully.

"Are you sure we can't just rid of them?" I asked while trying to penetrate deeper into Jeb's mind.

"They're being introduced to the specimen as we speak. We can't take them out of their lifeline now." He explained.

I let out a nasty snarl. "I'm going for a walk." I informed him, waving my hand dismissingly.

"Can I join?" He asked. "You've done enough." I answer, glaring.

I dramatically stomped out of the house. As I entered the mystical woods, my hands formed fists, attracting a small ball of water vapor. I unclenched my hands and the miniature cloud is blown away, the impact causing the golden leaves on the trail to fly out of my way. I smile to myself, creating more and more balls of vapor, shooting them forward to blow leaves out of my path. Enjoying myself, I raised my hand, calling forth a bit of thunder. The sound sends squirrels into hysterics, looking for a small hiding place. The echo of the thunder boomed throughout the forest. The loose leaves on trees were freed by the sound waves.

I laughed to myself, sensing how weak nature really is. In the middle of the fragile woods, I felt like a conductor, responsible for an orchestra of power. I raised my hands, drawing lightning out of the sky. I proceeded to lower my hands, allowing thunder to tumble through the air. To others, the sound is almost deafening, but to my own ears it's the most natural sound in the world- like music. I drew out rain and blew away wind. Standing there, commanding the elements, I felt powerful and unique. Grinning, I realized I was doing thinks Max never dreamt of doing.

Max. How does she manage to penetrate my purest moments? She's still alive, but not in _that_ sense. She's alive in our subcosciousness. She's always there, lurking in the back of my mind, making snarky remarks and constantly critizing me.

She's in Jeb's mind as well. She tells him how much better than me she was, pointing out how I'm so unrelatable. She whispers to him how I'll never be as caring, or as responsible as she was. And she always reminds him that she was his favorite.

But one thing is for sure- she was never as powerful as I was. And she never will be- she's gone. Simply a shell, barely able to defeat weak humans. Not nearly as capable as even the simplest of the mutants. While she's responsible for merely one life, her own, I can tear apart the threads of fate in seconds. Her soul used to be a fire, powerful and beautiful. However, she barely has a single flame left.

Jeb will like me. He will be forced to, over time. All his other 'children' are dead, not to mention we live alone in the middle of Alaska. He has no choice- I will grow on him. How hard could it be to like me?

In my insecure moments, I compare myself with Maximum. Was she really so much better than me? Am I so intolerable? Do I truly repulse Jeb?

Maybe my power scares him. That must be it. But I can't help thinking- will anyone ever stop comparing me to Maximum ride?

* * *

**Name: Amber**

**Location: Mt. Hood Meadows**

**Date: October 8th**

"As I was saying, I'm Ben. I will be your trainer this year. I have already coached some of you, so it will be a pleasure to teach you how to coach yourselves. This is Katrina. She just moved here from Colorado. I assume the rest of you have already introduced yourselves. So, instead of doing a boring name round, I have a plan that's a bit more interesting. We're going to go cross country today, so leave your alpine skis here. Now, there's eight of you so we're going to divide into couples, and then we'll switch around. Each couple will go on a different trail. Ok?" He said. It surprised me that he jumped straight into the activity and didn't talk about why we were here, our yearly agenda, etc.

Kara and Lysander paired up, and Rena ditched her sister for Iason. Anastasia (who I must remember never to call Anna, because that name is evidentially saved for her friends) made her way to Katrina. I looked at Nick. "Partners?" he mouthed. I nodded, smiling. Only he could make this seem like a first grade task.

We got fitted with cross country skis and soon enough, Nick and I were on our trail. Cross country trails always loom the same- a few hills, a circular track that's about six feet wide, trees from each side. Ben said all the trail we were going to do today should only take around 10 minutes before we get back to the main circle, where all the other finished couples were waiting. However, there was something special about this trail. We were surrounded by a very lengthy, awkward silence.

"So…" I said, trying to break the ice. "Tell me about yourself" I ask, praying that he'll actually speak.

"Not much to tell…" he stalls. I raise an eyebrow. "I don't know myself that well.." He finally admits. Even though he lets out a short, dry laugh I can tell how serious those words are.

"Surprisingly enough, I think I can actually relate." I say. He shoots a confused look at me, before turning his head back to the trail.

"I had amnesia." I say, hoping that he won't be one of those people who think it's some sort of disorder.

He did the Nick equivalent of a gasp, which is an expression of minor shock that can only be detected if you look in his eyes. He then explains himself. "I had amnesia too."

Now, if he were a normal human, we would continue to discuss the details of our injuries and perhaps even trail off into other stories from our life creating what people often refer to as friendly conversations. However, Nick being the mysterious, unsocial guy he is- he left it at that. We finished our trail in silence.

After we finished, I was paired with Rena. She was a really sweet girl, and apparently, she enjoys talking about herself. A LOT. Here's what she told me:

She was a sophomore in college, and wanted a secure job. She always loved skiing and she decided that this would be the best job for her.

Meanwhile, her sister dropped out of college due to her eating disorder. She is now healthy and goes to counseling, but their mother is still skeptical. She constantly tries to get her out of the house, and upon hearing of Rena's new job, she was ecstatic. Being the overprotective mom she is, she sent Anna out to help her sister. However, Anna wasn't so thrilled with the fact that her mom was managing her life.

"Anna says that this whole disorder started because mom was too involved, always seeking perfection. And she has Dr. Levvit to prove it. He says that the whole thing was basically Anna trying to prove mom wrong. I mean, Anna was always pretty rebellious." She said.

"I heard that bulimia is trying to gain control over your own body, so you can feel like you own nature. Maybe Anna was trying to be more powerful than your mom, to prove that she has just as much influence." I added, feeling like a therapist.

"Control over nature… It's so dumb! No one should be able to do that." She said to herself. My mind froze on the words 'control' and 'nature'.

"I hate people who try to play god…" I mumbled to myself.

Soon enough, we were finished. We went back to the central circle and I paired up with Lysander.

We talked about average thing, like movies. Of course, he is a filming major, so he has more professional opinions than my own. We had a few heated debates about politics and a small argument about actors, but we agreed on most things (which is very unusual). He was really nice to be around, and every time I asked him something, he also mentioned Kara. If his favorite color was Red, he'd immediately comment that Kara's was orange. He was obviously in love, and they seemed like the perfect couple. I was even a bit jealous, seeing their perfect relationship blossoming. By the end of the trail he asked me to call him Ly.

Next, I skied with Iason. He was, to sum it up, epic. His life is band-oriented, but unlike many other college bands, he is actually good. As in, he knows good music and can actually provide some, too. The kid's got talent. More than that, he's fun to be around. He is witty and intelligent, and I can really see myself as his friend.

After Iason I endured the company of Kara. Not that Kara is bad, but she talks _constantly_. Usually, I am repulsed by this kind of person, but she reminded me of someone that left me with a positive feeling .She liked fashion but had a soft spot for cars. She too was head over heels for Lysander. Her comments oriented around 'Lys LOVES that' and 'Oh, you can't believe what happened when Ly and I…'. Overall, even though she ranted more often than any other human on this planet, I liked her.

I proceeded to do a trail with Anastasia. She's now 21, the oldest of the group. Midway through, she spoke her first words.

"I'm not crazy, you know." She said. It was so quiet, as if she said it merely to herself.

"I believe you." I whispered back. And I did.

"It's not what you think. I… I didn't do this to myself. Or maybe I did, indirectly. But it's not as it seems. I'm sure Rena told you the cover story… But do you really think that's what it is?" She said.

"Look around, Amber. Everyone here is covering their bruises, and we're all way beyond what would be considered thin. Just… Think about it, ok? What do you think it is?" She said, her gaze steadily holding mine, challenging.

"Punishment" I say immediately, not even thinking about my words.

"Exactly! Now, I can't give you any more clues, but try to figure it out. Who would starve us? Why? And why would all the prisoners end up here?" She said, a loose smile breaking on her striking face.

Her cryptic words remind me of Jeb, and my pace slows a bit. Jeb was like my father, and thinking of him made my ribcage ache.

We continued the trail in silence, and in the central circle I traded Anastasia with Katrina. As soon as we were out of sight, she tackled me. She pushed me down into the snow, her hands on my shoulders. I gasp in shock, and note that she's much heavier than she seems.

"I can't…" she whispers, looking into the trees.

She gets off me, not providing any explanation. She faces the trees and calls for help.

Katrina turns to me, an agonized look visible in her eyes, and looks back away.

"I just can't…" she whispers apologetically, and runs.

* * *

**Not my best work, I know. Very raw and unedited. Lea, you're free to go ahead and take this little project upon your grammatically correct shoulders (see? that doesn't even make sense).Thoughs? Comments? Likes? Dislikes? Type it all up. It's review time!**


	12. Dawn

**A/N: So... I'm kind of not sure as to whether I should continue this fanfic or not. The past three weeks have consisted of my inner monolouge. I still haven't decided. I've been staring at this document for far too long. Anyways, I decided to post this half chapter as a consultation as I continue my inner debate. Enjoy!**

* * *

**Name: Amber**

**Location: ?**

**Date: ?**

Dawn. I open my eyes and see the skies. Gentle balls of purple fluff are pasted on a salmon colored canvas. As I inspect the heavens, a new thought hits me. Where the hell is the ceiling?

I look around, frightened. Where am I? I'm in an unfamiliar meadow. Large trees surround me, a golden carpet of leaves on the floor. The breeze is chilling. The crisp October air fills my lungs. Then, a face. I'm not sure how it appeared- it seemed as though it materialized above me. I try to yell, but I couldn't hear my own voice.

The face was feminine, I decided. It looked tired and worn out. The incredibly pale skin possessed some strange shade of gray, resembling a tragic newspaper. Her eyes were gray too, but had a very serious spark in them. Her eyes have seen too much. The lips were incredibly pale, almost invisible against her skin. Her hair was merely a shapeless hill on the top of her head. It reached her chin and was a shockingly bright white. She looked more like a ghost than a human. In fact, it seemed like all the color had washed out of her.

"Don't be afraid," the lifeless tone coming out of the face plead.

"I mean no harm…" She repeated. I tried to get up but it was impossible. I felt as though the energy had drained out of my body.

"Where am I?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper. After a thoughtful pause, she responded.

"You're safe here," She said, her voice softer. "Max, I'm going to do a lot of talking now. You may not believe what I say, but it's crucial you listen. Try not to argue, you're weak enough as it is." She said, sadness detectable through her firm voice.

I wanted to say that I wasn't Max, but it seemed pointless. I tried to focus my eyes on her.

"My name is… No, you've never heard of me. In fact, it's best you don't drop my name around as I am currently in hiding. I currently live in …. . Remember that, you may need to go there sometime. Why am I in hiding? Betrayal. Which brings me to you. You aren't who you think you are. You were … by … and…. Godammit! They're censoring me! Here? How can they do that?

"Ok, I'll summarize this. You shouldn't trust anyone besides …. and … . They're the ones trying to help you. You would have to escape soon- now that they know, they'll try to … . You have to find …., …., …., and finally … . You won't be able to move on until you get to her. I'll try to get to you again, but it's going to be difficult…" She said, her eyes wondering to the trees around us. They started morphing, twisting and flickering. Then, they resumed their original shape.

The face disappeared for a single moment and then reappeared, just like a hologram. "I can't stay long…" she said, shaking her head. Even though her presence frightened me, I sighed. In the oddest way, it was comforting to have her there.

"Max… You're being monitored. They don't want you to know certain things, which is why even as I reach you in this form they somehow censor me. I'll try to find a way to show you what you are. Don't worry, you aren't the first one- and sadly, you won't be the last." The face now seemed flustered. She spoke quickly, trying to move on as fast as possible. I didn't object.

"My point is… you aren't alone. Don't forget that. You'll figure it out, sooner or later. When you do… Just like he said, jump off a cliff." She said. It took me a moment, but I realized what she was referring to- Jeb told me to do the very same thing.

"Wait…" I croaked, confused. My voice was raspy and deep. "you… you know Jeb?" I asked. Suddenly, indescribable, intolerable pain filled the back of my head. I screamed.

"Don't say his name!" She said urgently. "They won't let me speak of him. They won't let you ask of him. I'll just leave that to you. You aren't alone" She repeated. The face then disappeared. So did the meadow. And I was alone.

Or so I thought.

* * *

**A/N: Soo... thought? Arguements for my debate? Ideas? Comments? Why, loook at that! A review button! Better type that up!**


End file.
